A Twisted Man
by Monkey Typewriter
Summary: The story of A Little Girl is continued, from the perspective of B... or maybe B isn't his name. We resume his story where he is lying down, slowly dying, and ready to give up, after losing his Sister to a mysterious man. He's going over the edge of the cliff of death, when he spots something that hauls him back over. Red. SEQUEL TO A Little Girl, From the POV of a Big Daddy.
1. Purpose

Chapter 1

My suit was breached, and the pink liquid that they put in my suit to keep me breathing, even under the crushing depths of the ocean, were dripping out. I struggled to clear my lungs of the liquid, so that I could try to breath oxygen. Instead of sounding like me clearing my throat, it sounded more like rubble being cleared from a street. My... my friend John stood over me, trying to talk me into staying conscious, but I didn't want to. Josie was safe... she'd be fine. She no longer needed her Daddy, and with her leaving, my thoughts cleared, letting me think some more...

Then I saw her. She was crying, and her head was sticking out of the Hidey Hole. My... my friend... He... stood over me, but when I moved, he... he...

I dragged myself towards the Hidey Hole. I then punched a hole in the wall. Then another. I used each hole to get up, and I stood before her. I gently lifted her from the hole, and I dragged her along. We needed to... to harvest. I needed to get better, and keep her safe. The man followed. He was familiar, in a way, but I couldn't remember him. I didn't bother trying. I stumbled along, passing a few Splicers that formed a mob behind us, gathering for... for something. I ignored them. She was all that mattered. She was all that was important.

I still coughed, and passed another filled suit. It wasn't moving, so I took his drill. He had a pair of med-kits on him, so I grabbed them, and was about to take them out, when the girl stopped me. Didn't she get that I needed to be strong? For her? She shook her head. "Let him do it." Her voice filled me with pleasure. I smiled behind my mask. I turned and handed the kits to the... the familiar guy. Was he... Sam? No... Nonono. Sam was dead. Sam was gone.

He jabbed a needle into my arm, and I felt the healing agent spread throughout my body. I don't remember what hurt me, but she made it all better. That's why I loved her. I swept the little girl up in my arms, placing her on my shoulder as she laughed. I saw the man grunt as he injected the medicine directly into his hand, and watched as his bones realigned themselves, fixing before our very eyes. I don't know what did that to him, but it must've hurt.

Then I heard a yell. "Get the bitch! Get the Adam!" I didn't react until I heard a different yell. "B! Get ready, we've got company!" I turned to see the man from before... the one who... he... what did he do? He was throwing fireballs at the rushing crowd, and took out a pistol from a holster, shooting with decent accuracy. I didn't react until I heard the girl scream. "Mr. Bubbles!" She sounded desperate, and I noticed that the light pressure on my shoulder was gone. I turned, and my entire body shook with rage. NO ONE would HURT _her_!

I moaned with fury, and ran after the Splicer that held her. She was hanging by one of the Splicer's hooks, even while the Splicer hung from the ceiling, scurrying along like an inverted rat. I leapt, grabbing the girl from her and managing to tear her dress on the hook. I was more worried about this as I presented my back to the man on the ceiling, who threw hooks at me, which all either bounced off of the metal part of my outer suit, or lodged in the fabric.

I tried to fit the ends of her collar together, hoping they'd stick. My visor turned green, and I hugged her, shuddering, crying that I was sorry, that I didn't mean to rip her dress. When the next hook pinged off of my helmet, lodging itself solidly in her arm as it fell, I roared again, so hard that the glass tube around us shook with the force. I turned, feeling my eyes opening wide, and I stared at the man with hooks for hands. I stared at him, past the metal bars and broken glass of my visor, and I heard him mutter, "Aw, fuck me." I ran at him, leapt again, grabbed him by an arm, and threw him to the ground with such force that I think his spine was severed. I sure heard something pop. I then stomped on his chest, severing the neck and head from what remained of the body with the first one, but stomping again and again, until all that remained of the man was a grease stain on the floor, some chunks of bone lodged in the wall, and some blood on my suit, and on my exposed face.

I got up, walking back to the girl. She was crying, as the hook was still in her arm. I gently grabbed it, sliding it out, and watching as her skin healed. I had purpose again, even if Josie was gone. I moaned to her, and pulled her to her feet, relishing the contact, even if it was through the suit. I placed her on my shoulders, and she smiled shakily. "Thanks Mr. Bubbles. I'm Tara." I nodded, but then I stopped. Mr. Bubbles? Was that right? Or am I... Mr...

The line of thought slipped from my head, and I shrugged, throwing Tara into the head for a few seconds as she giggled. I smiled behind my mask. I felt good as I waded into the crowd that all beat on something in the middle of it. I would've kept walking, but Tara pointed to whoever was being attacked with fists and pipes, with hands electrified and spiked with ice. "Help Mr. J!" She shouted, so I did. I reached a hand in, grabbed the unconscious and bleeding body, and threw him over a shoulder as I stomped, smashed, and drilled a way out for us.


	2. Thinking of You

Chapter 2

I was breathing hard, as Sam... no... not Sam. Sam is... he's dead. This man was tearing strips of cloth from half-decayed angels, as Tara hummed, gathering like a good girl. I smiled, feeling great with the air hitting my face. I smelled unwashed bodies and stale air. But I smelled. I could feel the faint breeze on my face as the pink, oxygenated liquid in the suit sloshed around. I revved the drill, to get their attention, and certainly not because it was fun, and started walking to Tara.

She trusted this man, even without a heavy suit. It seemed strange, but I trusted her judgement. She was the perfect little girl. Of course she knew what to do. I smiled at her through the jagged glass, moaning to her in my heavy, whale-like language. She smiled up to me, and said, "I'm almost done, Daddy!" I patted her lightly on the head, and went to sit beside the man. I almost moaned out "Sam," but I recognized my mistake, as well as that he wasn't Sam. Sam was dead. Doctor Suchong had told me so.

I cleared my head of these thoughts as a single mad Splicer ran into the room, shrieked, and leapt at Tara. I was immediately on my feet, ignoring my suit as it bent and groaned as the metal bent, and catching the thug with a pipe in the air by his neck. He scraped at my neck as I shoved the drill through his face. he twitched for a few seconds as I dropped him. I then picked up Tara, setting her on top of my shoulders, legs hanging down towards my arm pits. I smiled as the man beside us started to mutter to himself.

"No... no we're not taking the Adam!" He shouted after a few minutes of this. He fell to his knees, arguing with himself. Tara seemed concerned, as she jumped down from my shoulders and ran up beside Sam. Not Sam. Not... He sprang to his feet, and had a wild look to his eyes. He shook with pent up energy, even as he yelled at himself to stop. He threw a fireball at me with Incinerate!, and it hit my chest, melting some of the metal, even as some of the blood-soaked fabric smoldered. I ran to him, tackling him. Surprisingly, he managed to wriggle free after we hit the ground, and got some distance between us. He threw another fireball at my now unprotected face, and I was forced to throw up my right arm, the one carrying the drill, as a loud blast was heard, and a few fragments of a buckshot managed to get through the fabric of my suit. I bent over as the suit began to drain itself of the pink liquid, from the waist up.

I roared with pain and anger as my vision flashed red, no doubt due to the multicolored lights on either side of my head aimed at the opening in my helmet. I charged the man again, this time leading with the drill. He managed to sidestep the drill, but I reached out my left arm and bowled him over. I stabbed the drill at his head, but he rolled away. He managed to get up and begin backing away slowly. I saw his face change, and his eyes went wide as I creeped towards him, and then Sam... not Sam, was turning and running. I wasn't going to pursue. But then Tara followed him. I moaned loudly, freaked that my little girl would run off like that. No... she wasn't my girl. She was... my girl? I stopped, trying to think through this mental block.

Sam is dead. Sam is dead. I repeated this over and over, the idea that she wasn't my little girl slipping easily from my brain, and the thought of Sam being the man. I couldn't hold it in my head, like trying to grab a greased pig. That man wasn't Sam. He... HE HAS TARA! I roared, and started barrelling through the few connected rooms at high speeds, and into a glass corridor. I felt a familiar murderous rage settle in my stomach. I'd kill everyone in this city before I let them touch her. She was my little girl, and I would protect her.

I stopped. I was faster than the small man. Sam? No. I was faster than him. I would've passed him in the glass corridor by now. I turned, and started walking back slowly. I passed them. I must've. I... I could think? I pondered this as I walked. When i'm away from Tara, I can think, but all that I can think about is trying to find her. No... not true, but almost. I grimaced what was left of my face from the process that made me a part of the Protector Program. Whoever had messed with my head, they'd done a good job. No free thoughts with her, and without her, all of my thoughts drifted to her.

I thought all of this as I destroyed any possible hidingplaces as I backtracked. Then I saw her, standing primly, needle behind her back, and smiling nervously. My heart melted as my thoughts disipated, scooping my little girl up in my arms. I made a moan similar to a sigh, and turned from the heavily breathing table, with a relatively good looking face of a man sticking out ever so slightly.


End file.
